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Losing (and finding) the plot!

I went to bed last night full, not only of a VERY lovely Cottage Pie and Lemon Tart, but also of good intentions. I was going to get up today and go for a walk and then get on with the edits I’m supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, the characters in the book I’m beginning had other ideas and they decided today was the day they were going to make themselves known to me.


My walk took me (as planned) along the Victorian perambulation as I mused about Kitty and her life in the late 1800s. In my head I was wearing some kind of long crinoline-y dress, a vague notion of some kind of walking boot and carrying a parasol. In reality this looked more like a pair of wellies, a woolly hat and a waterproof coat and it made me realise that perhaps some research on Victorian fashion might be in order…




A pretty looking path caught my eye and as I was dressed for the rain, I decided to wander down it and see where it took me (not planned). It was quite steep and I was well aware that there was no conveniently situated Mr Willoughby to come and rescue me should I ‘take a tumble’ so I decided on reaching the bottom to continue along along the flatter path by the river and see where it took me, instead of attempting to climb back up the path.





It was at this point that perhaps I should have remembered that I have zero sense of direction and am not usually allowed out anywhere (especially somewhere with no mobile signal) without an accompanying adult, because I cannot be trusted not to get lost. I had only intended to wander around the grounds so hadn’t foreseen the need for a guide, having underestimated quite how big ‘the grounds’ actually were…

Nevertheless, I was quite content to bimble along, musing about murders and sex scandals and contemplating where along the river would be the best place to throw a body in to ensure it didn’t get linked to the house – all in the name of research I hasten to add!

It was upon getting to the road, rather than a further path back to the house through the woods, that I realised I didn’t actually have much of a clue where I was. Hurriedly retracing my route (insofar as I’d taken any notice of the direction in which I was walking) in my head, I took a chance that the road I was now looking at, if I followed it uphill, would eventually bring me back to Northmoor.

I arrived back somewhat red in the face, but with a much clearer idea of my narratives and how they were all going to be linked together.

After two hours of constructing a 6 generation family tree and researching various aristocratic titles and modes of address, I decided to attempt the great outdoors once again and try this time, to stick to where I had intended to go after breakfast. Again, murder was at the forefront of my mind. But on wandering back through the woods to the house, I was a Victorian maidservant, talking to her mistress – I’m not sure where her accent placed her origins but she was a very faithful servant – which must have looked quite odd when I was spied from the house, walking along talking to myself. (I wasn’t, I was quite clearly talking to my mistress and explaining my behaviour to her!)


My hope is that now I’ve got the first bit of planning done, they will leave me alone for a while so I can get on with the edits I’m meant to be doing.

But don’t be surprised if you see me out in the rain again talking to people only I can see…

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